


I'll be there

by yunliu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Harry Potter, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Coming Out, Coming of Age, F/F, I WROTE THIS IN 5 DAYS, I love these girls so much, Trans Draco Malfoy, Trans Harry Potter, Transitioning, mentions of transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26790313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunliu/pseuds/yunliu
Summary: If Harry had a face like Draco's she'd bet he'll have far less difficulty in looking like a girl than Harry does, and Harry envies him for it.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 110





	I'll be there

**Author's Note:**

> title is from loona's I'll be there by heejin and hyunjin I love that nifty little banger!!! im not an orbit I just like it a lot 
> 
> this fic is kinda inspired by that darling trans harry fic magical metamorphosis by Eon_the_dragon_mage (ps I love u)
> 
> thanks to my lovely beta reader GRAMMARLY ♡ jk this isn't beta read get it ill beta read later if u see a mistake pls close one eye
> 
> update: IT HAS BEEN BETA READ. THANK YOU TI, I LOVE YOJ!!!

Something changes over the summer when she turns twelve. 

She’d found herself lying under a bush in the garden in a valiant attempt at avoiding her lousy excuse of a bunch of relatives when Vernon had stormed outside, ruining her peace to scold her for being a useless lump. It was perfectly fine when Hermione did the same –although she'd never admit it– but her aunt doing it was the last straw.

She stumbled out, going somewhere, somewhere, anywhere… away from here. Away from her childhood home – if you could even call it that. Okay, maybe she was crying a little. If her full-blown bawling could still be considered crying, that is. 

Spare a little empathy here. She just wanted to go away. It was late at night, and it wasn’t really a surprise when she ended up getting lost. 

She met an estranged uncle– no, aunt, when she was out on the streets of Muggle London.

Snot was dribbling down her nose when she saw her. At first, she begins –"Sir…" when her mind finally remembers the stories about children being kidnapped in the streets. She only managed to sneak back a few steps before the older woman reassured her.

"Harry," the alto voice intoned, name practised and familiar on her tongue. "I go by Miss, now." 

"What? Weren't you Uncle Bentley? Bentley Evans?" echoed Harry, puzzled. 

After seven years, something looked very different. Bentley looked… well, in the most eloquent terms, more of a woman, although she remained tall. Harry didn’t know people could do that! Bentley was definitely non-magical. No glamours at all!

And yet her face was smaller: a greater deal more delicate, features rounded and softened and feminine. Harry drew back to examine her face. All in the same, but _different_. How?

“Uncle?”

“It’s Aunt Lorraine now, dearest.”

Lorraine was hesitant. Harry could tell. She lived in the middle of the town square, flat cosy and tucked into a corner. It wasn’t a bad place. Between inquiries regarding her presence in the city, she answers an important question that sets off the catalyst for change. 

"So, you're transgender. Your body doesn't match how you actually are so you took hormones that are in pills so you could develop feminine characteristics," Harry says slowly. 

"That's right." She leans against the door frame, glancing nervously at Harry, as if she was waiting for her to go on, waiting for something crude or judgmental to slip out. 

Suddenly everything slips into place. The uncomfortable wash of wrongness that comes with being called a boy makes sense now. It's been like this for years. She tries her best not to let her emotions overwhelm her expression. 

"Is that so?" she replies, voice a little wet. "Well, I'm transgender too, I suppose. I think. Didn't know it was a thing until like five seconds ago." Lorraine chuckles at that. 

"If you can make yourself look more like a woman, can you find a way to not have my voice break? The other boys in my year already have theirs starting to deepen and I don't want that. It terrifies me," Harry went on, embarrassed. "I really don't want it." 

Her aunt softens immediately, moving in to hug her. She tucks the girl's head into her shoulder and Harry takes in a shuddery breath. She hasn't had a hug like this in years. 

"Harry Potter I have not seen you in years but I promise you I will help you with this," Lorraine says quickly. "I'll bring you to my doctor and we can get some hormone blockers for you, okay? It helps stop puberty– oh, don't cry, sweetheart! Us girls need to help each other." 

Although Harry has nothing on but her trunk, she stays for three days. She returns to her uncle's home carrying even more things than she had brought, and along with ladles a realisation that spawns the rebirth of her true identity. 

__

Her voice doesn't end up breaking at all. She accidentally charms a bicycle to fly her all the way to Hogwarts one day in advance, shivering violently throughout the entire trip. It's the only way not to be caught by muggles. 

She explains her situation to Professor McGonagall (that’s why she came early). Her Head of House gladly accommodates her, but she promises to not out Harry when she isn't ready. It is a recent discovery, after all, some more time would be necessary for her to become mentally prepared. Thinking about coming out to the entire school population makes her eye twitch oddly. She doesn't think she can stomach any schoolmates approaching her and asking all kinds of nosy questions. Or any questions, for that matter.

She steals Ron and Hermione from the Great Hall once they arrive. For the last few hours, all she could do was make up a plan on how to tell them, coming up with possible answers to any of their questions. They understand as much as a bunch of twelve-year-olds can. Harry doesn’t understand it much herself, but she’s still the same person, she’s still Harry. 

Second year is as eventful as it can be when you’re a walking target for what seemed like the entire wizarding world, trying to escape death at every step. She gets called the heir of Slytherin, pulls a sword from a hat, murders a basilisk, finds out Lucius Malfoy’s probably in cahoots with Voldemort, and kicks a different skirt under her bed every time Dean Thomas does homework on her bed. 

Like she said, an eventful year. Third year acquiesced just as quickly. 

__

There's an odd habit she develops across the year. Something particularly notable. 

She finds herself _staring_ at a lot of people. Not any random people. She likes to stare at the pretty ones. And although she's well aware that she finds pretty girls rather attractive, this is for different reasons. 

First she squints indignantly at Cho Chang from Ravenclaw. Then Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff. The list goes on. Hermione has to elbow her in the ribs to keep her from staring for too long. 

Then, the next victim to her ceaseless staring is… Malfoy. In this period when all she does is eyeball the Slytherin she realises something: 

Draco Malfoy is pretty. 

His admirers say otherwise. In Brown's words he is 'devastatingly handsome,' Patil says he is 'the paragon of masculine dashing' and Hermione reluctantly calls him 'easy on the eyes.' 

And yes, he is good-looking. Sure. Everyone with eyes knows that. But along with his piercing grey eyes, he has strikingly long pale eyelashes; a jawline that even women would kill for, lips that are never chapped, always pink without lip balm. His hair is silky like a girl's, the smooth texture evident even in its short length. 

Meanwhile, Harry has a hardier cut off the jaw no amount of contour can hide, bushy eyebrows that don't flatter her unruly hair. Eyeliner won't save her, even. 

If Harry had a face like Draco's she bet she'd have far less difficulty looking like a girl than Harry did with her own, and Harry envies him for it. 

And that's when she realises she's been looking at all these people. They have a femininity she doesn't possess, but wants to have so badly. What she wants to fit in. Whatever she thinks she would need to have in order to be called a proper woman. It strikes her in the middle of class, when she's staring at the back of Malfoy's head, admiring his lithe shoulders. 

Hm. It's not a very inspirational revelation, and it sort of disappoints her that unconsciously, she feels this way. Her self-esteem isn't that fucked up, surely? But she can live with it. 

__ 

It’s only after Quidditch practise that she realises she's left her favourite pink scrunchie behind in the changing room. It’s no big deal, and honestly, it’s a bit of a pain to run back there to get it. She could pick it up during the next match, but if the rest of her teammates see it –they’re all boys, mind you– she doesn’t have the heart to bluster out a half-hearted lie. 

“I’ll be back in a bit!” she yells after George, dashing off in the direction of the changing rooms. Two steps blend into three and she finds herself moving even more swiftly than she knew she could manage. She isn’t sure if her dash fueled by her increased heart rate or the cold panic flush in her veins. 

As she doesn’t pay attention to her surroundings, she collides into someone. When she looks up, her eyes meet Malfoy’s, his striking grey eyes a feature of his that she’s come to associate with cruel, childish taunts. She’s too flustered to say anything. The bag he was holding slips out of his hands and its contents spill out onto the floor. 

“Watch where you’re going, Potter!” Malfoy bites out, irritated as he dusts the non-existent lint off his pants. 

Immediately she swoops down to help pick up the items that had taken a tumble. Although he was being a pain in the ass, as usual, she was still in the wrong and ought to right it first before spitting out any insults. It was a piece of advice Professor McGonagall had given her the last time she had a run-in with Malfoy. 

Among the items, there is a girl’s blouse and a red skirt fashioned out of a vibrant-coloured velvet. Even while sprawled out on the dirty floor, the beauty of the garments is unmistakable. How on earth had these clothes ended up in his bag? What would he need these for?

Like a stunned goldfish, all Harry could do was to gape dumbly at him, the boy in front of her uncharacteristically silent. A whole bunch of retorts begin formulating in her head. ‘Are you a sissy, Malfoy?’ or a damning ‘Crossdresser much?’ Maybe even a ‘Did you steal this from a girl, you pervert?’

Instead, she can’t say a word, only managing to croak out, “Are these yours?”

He sweeps the clothes into his hands, scrambling to his feet and running in the other direction, complexion turning a ghastly pale. He already looks like a ghost. How is it possible that his alabaster skin can glow lighter? 

Absently, she thinks, _Is Malfoy like me?_

___

In the middle of Hagrid's lesson, she receives a message – thrust into her hand by another student whose name she does not know. It's a note carried between the folds of a silken handkerchief, embroidered with the initials D.M. She nearly lets out a snort when she sees it. Trust Malfoy to have his own embroidered handkerchief. 

_Meet me in the transfiguration classroom after dinner._

The elegant script was written in a hurry. For a moment Harry thought about whether she should stand him up. She had nothing to gain from this meeting, after all. She almost ends up rejecting, but she is reminded of her burning questions from yesterday, so she heads down to the classroom after having a heaping portion of pasta and her usual dosage of hormone blockers. 

It is eerily quiet in there. She was too accustomed to the place bustling with her classmates, so it feels odd to see it barren. 

"Malfoy? Are you there?"

"I'm by the teacher's desk," he replies. Unexpectedly, he lacks any hostility in his words. 

He stands there, one of his arms tucked neatly into his chest. It makes him look smaller. She glances at him, recalling the set of clothing she had seen and tries to imagine him wearing it. He wouldn't look half bad, actually. Does he have nice legs? Okay, so what if he has nice legs, no pair of legs can beat Angelina Johnson’s– and girls' legs are so much more worth looking at in her opinion. 

"Hello? Earth to Potter," says a disgruntled Malfoy, expression resembling a kettle that is due to overboil. He takes in a sharp intake of breath. 

Harry is going to take a wild guess and say that he's trying to gather the words in his head first. People tend to do that, but she isn't certain she has ever seen _Malfoy_ do that before. 

She lifts an eyebrow. "Spit it out already."

Curling a hand into a tight, white-knuckled fist, he mutters under his breath, "You tell anyone about what I had in my bag and I'll hex you." 

As absurd as the situation is, she can't help feeling the thrill of having some leverage over him. However, this wasn't what she had come for. 

She tries, to the best of her ability, to imagine him in the same shoes as her. And it's difficult because prior to this all she's done is hate his guts. Maybe he too tried on his mother's heels and strutted through the house with the loveliest, most exhilarating feeling; maybe he tried to grow out his hair while ignoring his relatives' adamant protests like Harry has. 

As much as that bothers her that he could be like her, it comforts her inexplicably to know that maybe, someone her age went through the same struggles, not like Aunt Lorraine, who had settled into adulthood and begun from there. 

"Are you a crossdresser?" she asks bluntly. "Or are you a transgender girl?" 

"What the hell," he sputters. He didn't anticipate this. "I'm not a crossdresser, you daft Gryffindor! Also, what is a transgender, anyway?" 

Practised from the numerous times she had explained it patiently to her friends, she says, "Being transgender means that your physical body and your gender don't align. Some people take steps to change their appearance to suit what they truly are. Like me." She sucks in a breath in a moment of vulnerability. "I still have like, a dick, but I'm still a girl. You got that?" 

“There’s a word for that?” His confused voice cuts through, so startling that she has to stare. It’s as if he’s completely forgotten who he is talking to. “I didn’t know. How do I make these uncomfortable feelings go away?”

“Well, Malfoy, instead of trying to ignore these feelings for the rest of your life, people usually do things so that they align with how they feel like, to feel more comfortable in their skin,” she says evenly, trying her best not to slip into sarcasm. For the first time in forever, she’s trying to be mature with him, an impossibility in itself, because he makes all of her logic go barrelling out of the window whenever they start bickering.

“Like how?”

Well, Harry knew what was coming, but she didn’t expect this conversation. She’s feeling an awful lot like a mum. If only Malfoy had someone like Aunt Lorraine to help figure himself out, she thinks. “Like with pronouns. Ask your friends to refer to you by feminine pronouns. That makes me feel better after being misgendered all day.”

He continues looking at her incredulously like she’s grown a second head. “Well, Potter? On with it! Use the darned things.”

“Eh? Okay,” she says, sitting on a desk to make herself feel more comfortable. “Malfoy is a horrible, nasty git. I wish she wasn’t such an annoying bastard. Honestly, she drives me mad.”

There is silence for roughly ten seconds– she starts counting after the third second– Merlin, this classroom is awfully dark, isn't it? She wishes she could see the expression on his face. All she can do is claw at her hair and she wishes she had grown it out, even if it wouldn't be smooth and silky and straight like Malfoy's just so she'd have something more substantial to tug on.

"And I thought I was the one who needed to be brought back to earth," Harry says critically. " _Lumos._ " They've been standing in darkness for a while, so the bright light makes the two of them flinch. 

She had given a piece of information about herself to her worst enemy. And now Malfoy is peering imploringly at Harry with the widest look in her eyes as if she'd discovered the meaning of life. 

"I'll overlook the insults for now, but the pronouns… they were very nice. Made me feel happy. I would like you to continue using those," she says in the smallest voice. Something warm and wiggly dances in Harry's chest. 

Harry walks towards the doors to leave, Malfoy behind her. It's so weird. She's probably never had a civilised conversation with the Slytherin up until this point. But even if Malfoy is just like her, she is still a person who called Hermione those horrible names. Plus she has a Death Eater father who wants Harry's head on a plate. Yet she can't feel any semblance of hate or dislike in knowing that Malfoy found the truth behind her dysphoria tonight. It's disassociating, almost. 

"Ron will get worried. I've been out here too long," she says. Malfoy steps out first into the quiet hallway. Harry shuts the door behind them. "I have a book that my Aunt Lorriane gave for these kinds of things. I'll owl you later." 

"Right. Get to your Weasel. I will be expecting your book," Malfoy says, sounding a lot more like her usual self. "See to it, Potter." 

She ends up not going to the owlery at all. These days she sneaks down to the Prefects' Bathroom because communal showers are a nightmare. It's nice to be by herself. Upon pulling herself into the dorm, there's a sleek, gorgeous owl sitting by the ledge of the window holding a piece of parchment in its beak. 

The bird is the closest to her bed. How did Malfoy owl her so fast? She admires the beautiful owl, stroking its head, delighted when it reciprocates with a purring coo. 

_I would like to learn more about this thing that both of us have in common. Honestly speaking, it disgusts me to think that we have anything in common at all, but since you've gotten me down that rabbit hole you have to help me through it. When is the next time you are free?_

Harry digs through her messy pile of things for the book, shrinks it for good measure so it won't be too difficult to carry, flips the parchment over to the blank side and scribbles out a reply. By the time she finishes, Ron is sitting on the foot of her bed, watching her curiously. 

"That owl was for you? It's a real beauty, Harry. Why do you have someone owling you so late?" 

"It was from the Slytherin towers, probably," she says offhandedly, trying to warm up her freezing toes under her red blanket. "I went to see Malfoy today." 

"What? What does that git want?" 

She has the half a mind to tell him everything that just happened. But she remembers how she is now, keeping her gender a secret from the rest of the school. She wouldn't feel very nice if anyone outed her. "It's a secret. Sorry, I can't tell you," she says as casually as possible. 

"A secret?" Ron wrinkles his nose, the freckles scattered on his face crinkling together. "You and that ferret aren't friends now, are you?" 

"Not friends, no way," she replies quickly. "It's just that I happen to know something about them that I can't tell you. I promise if this changes I'll tell you at once. It's kind of burning at me inside as well." _If Malfoy ever chooses to come out, that is. I've known I was transgender for about a year and I'm still holed up in the closet._

"Fine. Want to play Exploding Snap? Seamus brought it from the common room," Ron says. They crawl onto the floor to play several rounds. It's so exciting that she nearly forgets to try out the cosmetic spells she learnt before she goes to bed. 

__ 

Today is a good day. Since it's Hogsmeade Saturday, the school grounds are nearly barren. So Harry sleeps in, waiting for everyone to leave, knowing they won't be back for a few hours. 

By herself, she hogs the mirror in the bathroom. She dangles her wand over her face as she casts a few glamours she's learnt to do, adjusting her appearance just for a few hours. She makes her hair less frizzy. A hair-lengthening charm usually makes the strands more brittle, but her hair is annoyingly thick so it doesn't make a difference to her. 

She lengthens her eyelashes, magicks a dark line against the waterline, makes her lips a flattering pink colour and tucks a flower behind her ear. She changes out her pants for a ruffled skirt that is vaguely uncomfortable as a tag still hangs by the waistline, but by the time she's done dolling up she feels like she could run laps around the castle. 

Malfoy would be meeting her by the Herbology greenhouse. In an impetuous display of giddy happiness, she skips all the way there. She spots a glimpse of silvery blond hair by the trees. The other girl hadn't noticed her yet. Maybe Harry could surprise her? 

"Boo!" 

"You're going to have to try harder than that, Potter," she grumbles. "Oh." Her gaze flickers over Harry's outfit, then to her lips, probably noticing the cosmetics. "You look different." 

Harry nods. It's cold out here so she presses her feet together, not to let a gust of wind buffet in between. "You read the book?" 

Tucked under Malfoy's arm, she notices immediately that its spine has cracked. It wasn't like that before. She gives it a once over to make sure nothing else has been damaged. "You must have read it thoroughly."

"For your information," she drawls, posture straight but with her shoulders waning. "I stayed up all night trying to figure out heads or tails of my situation. And then it occurred to me that, hey, Potter goes through these things as well, should I consult her?" 

Blinking warmly at the use of the pronoun, Harry finds a smile spreading across her face. She attributes the easy feeling to her good mood. "Of course you may. We're trans sisters!" Then she laughs weirdly, 'cause God that sounds weird when she says it aloud, but it's nice to say it to someone like herself. Oh, it feels good. 

"You're strange," Malfoy says, evidently puzzled. "Even stranger than I thought you were. Also, if you know you’re a transgender girl, why haven't you told everyone yet?" 

Harry shakes her head, not prepared to tell the whole truth. "I don't know how the magical world feels about people like us. I'm taking pills to prevent my voice from breaking, but it's not like I'm sprouting boobs or anything. I'll deal with it one day. Just not today. Ron and Hermione know, of course. And Professor McGonagall. That's all."

"Right," Malfoy mutters. "You can take pills to prevent your voice from breaking. A muggle invention, I presume? Didn't know they had these kinds of things. Or anything much at all." 

It's freezing out here. She pulls the cardigan closer to herself, gesturing to Malfoy. "We should go back to the castle. You can show me how you look in the clothes you have." 

The Slytherin dorms are barren when they step in. Malfoy puts on the blouse and skirt. They don't fit as well as they should because of her wider shoulders, and she visibly sulks over that, not trying to purposefully fish for compliments.

When she turns over to let Harry see she lets the shorter girl cast an assortment of cosmetic spells. They don't work as well as actual makeup, she bemoans, but they do the job as well. 

"I don't fit this at all," Malfoy says, readjusting the skirt for the nth time. The hair growing charm only reaches her shoulders until it becomes so dangerously thin Harry fears her hair will snap. For the first time, she realises how silky smooth hair can have its disadvantages.

"Then we can find clothes that fit on you." Harry sweeps an eye over the skirt, glancing away quickly when she realises she's been looking for far too long than is normal. "If it makes you feel any better, that skirt makes your legs look fantastic, Malfoy." 

Pansy Parkinson's trunk is open and they take the opportunity to run their little fashion show for the day, Malfoy as the sole model. 

__

_Dear Aunt Lorraine,_

_I was wondering if you get me another prescription of hormone blockers and estrogen pills (get two of these)? I promise I'll pay you back. It's not for all for me though. Sorry for the abrupt letter._

_Love Harry_

__

_Harry,_

_Of course, I'll get you some, why are you suddenly asking for more? Do you plan on starting estrogen as well? Have you made a friend like yourself? It would be better if your friend went to a doctor with her mum or dad and got a prescription herself. Maybe her mother is against it, but if you make a misstep you could get an angry bigoted parent on your back. Make sure your friend reads the list of side effects before taking those pills, alright? Make sure she isn't allergic to any of its contents._

__

_Dear Aunt Lorraine,_

_Sorry for being vague, Auntie. I happened to have met someone here who is a transgender girl, like myself. And honestly, it's very exciting, we've never gotten along before and it does feel quite odd to talk to her like a friend but it feels super nice to have someone just like me. She told me her parents don't know how to get these pills and it would be better for me to help her instead._

_She found out she was trans because I gave her the extensive book you gave me. Recently we started reading one of the chapters together and it says that transgender people sometimes change their name as well as part of their transition. Well, you're the living example of this but now my friend is insisting we should figure out if we want to change our names or not. How did you pick your name, Aunt Lorraine? She says your advice might help us._

_By the way, she says thank you for the hormone blockers and stuff._

_Yours, Harry_

__ 

_Harry,_

_To answer your question, I picked the name Lorraine because it was the name of my favourite character in a soap opera drama. Plus it isn't a terrible-sounding name. Lorraine is a hundred times better than Bentley, in my opinion._

_You two don't have to change your name if you don't feel like it. Sometimes transgender people feel like their name doesn't fit their gender because some names are more associated with a particular sex. I was the same way. As for me, it just made me feel dysphoric. I would book appointments and people would come in expecting a man but found me instead._

_This letter came in a package so by now you must have noticed another book I have mailed you. 2000 Baby Girl Names. It may seem silly but it may give you a start. I went through it in the past while thinking of names for myself. I hope it will help you two._

_I have a suggestion for your friend. You can ask her to write to her parents and ask them what other names they were planning to name her. Usually, parents pick out a few different names. Tell me how it goes!_

_P.S. My parents were going to call me Gertrude if they had a girl. So that may not be successful. Good luck._

__

The past few weeks had been a blur. Ever since she had discovered her gender identity, Malfoy became more and more eager to begin a transition. It appeared that she had been struggling with dysphoria all her life, and now that she had finally found an answer to it, she wanted to resolve it right away. They ended up meeting even more frequently as time went by. 

Since Malfoy had insisted that they shouldn't be spotted in public together, they had taken residence in the library whenever they met. Something to do with a death eater father, Harry guessed. If she met up with Malfoy in private she could escape any of Ron's or Hermione's prying questions, so she didn't complain. 

Instead of sitting by the tables, however, they sit by the bookshelves, so Malfoy easily spots the book Harry is carrying and nearly forgets to cast a hasty silencing spell before she starts to talk in her excitement.

"What did your aunt say, Potter?" she asks with poorly veiled enthusiasm. "Regarding names, I mean." 

Harry is prepared for this, so she pulls the letter from her pocket, passing it to Malfoy. The girl reads through the letter quickly. "I'm afraid my mother won't have an answer for that. She told me that since Malfoys always have sons as firstborns, she didn't think of any other names, really. There's not a lot of constellations in the sky, you know. So she just picked a name she liked from the beginning and stuck to it."

"Always a firstborn son, eh? Looks like you'll be the exception," quips Harry. Malfoy looks very pleased by this statement, looking an awful lot like a cat that has got the cream. Joking with Malfoy is something she's never imagined before because of the sheer absurdity of it all. Even after weeks of meeting up it still feels like a fever dream. 

She's dutifully kept the book unopened until now, so she cracks it open to take a look. If it's possible she could find herself a nice name. She's pretty certain she hasn't known a single person except for Aunt Lorraine whose name is the way it is because they chose it. 

"I gave some thought to it." She smoothes a yellow page to the start of the L section. "I thought about naming myself Lily, after my mother, but I don't know if I should. It doesn't feel right. Then I thought about calling myself after a flower, cause it's a family tradition on my mom's side, but I don't know many flowers." 

"Gosh, this is complicated," Malfoy says after a long beat. "Picking a name can be really difficult." 

"That's probably why our parents name us and not ourselves," Harry says playfully. "It's pressuring, though. Don't worry, we can pick a few out and choose properly later." 

Malfoy sits down next to Harry and it takes all of the self-discipline in her spirit to try and not stare in her direction. They're squeezed close together in this small corner. It's as if her brain is transfigured into a pool of goo. Up this close, she can smell Malfoy's body wash and it smells a lot like cotton candy. It's becoming increasingly difficult for Harry not to drown in it. Leaning over to run a finger down a page of names, Malfoy grows ever closer, impossibly so. She's been casting cosmetic charms whenever she spends time with Harry, so her eyes are thinly lined over with black. It makes her eyes look huge like they're going to pop but not in a bad way. She looks pretty. Well, she's always been pretty. It's only until now that Harry's chosen to acknowledge it. 

"I don't think I like any of these names. Narissa is a perfectly fine name though, and I like it solely because it reminds me of Mother," she sniffs, disdainful.

Harry draws her knees to her chest, looping her arms over them. "None of the names have jumped out at me too."

"All these names are so… muggle. I'm a witch, I don't want any of these. We need more magical names. _Accersere_." A thick, heavy book appears out of midair and settles into Malfoy's lap. 

The cover is dusty, hardcover beginning to rot into a dull brown colour. It takes a bit of a strength to open it as all the pages are stuck together. It furls open to reveal an assortment of names in severe fonts. 

"How did you do that?" asks Harry, peering at it. It's full of words he's never seen in his life. Probably some kind of history book for names. The names aren't even sorted by alphabet. Some look like they'd sound rather queer when read aloud.

"It's from Malfoy Manor’s library. The books in it are all specially charmed so I can summon them at my convenience," Malfoy says. "Charmed, Potter? You're too easily impressed." Although her words are far from sweet, they hold no bite. 

She allows Malfoy to scan through the pages at her leisure for a few minutes. 

"Recently, I went to the new bookshop in Hogsmeade," Harry begins. Malfoy remains quiet, encouraging her to continue. "I was looking for a few books regarding transfiguration, so I asked the shop assistant. When I was about to thank him, I asked for his name. And his name was Socks." 

"Socks? What kind of name is that?" Malfoy snorts but seems interested regardless. 

"He told me that he's non-binary and he chose the name for himself, actually." 

"So you're telling me that I could call myself a Sweater and everybody could deal with that. Seriously?" 

"Yes. Okay wow the pressure of naming yourself is lighter now. We could literally call ourselves anything, you realise?" Harry says in a severe tone. 

When she turns around to see Malfoy, the blond girl looks like she's mixed between wanting to laugh and wanting to cry. "Potter, you're going to make me lose it someday I swear," she mutters, but there's an exasperated fondness softening her words that makes Harry's breath catch in her chest, and Malfoy leans forward to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Harry's ear. 

"Potter," she says.

"Hmm?"

"Gemini Narcissa Malfoy rolls off the tongue rather nicely, don't you think?"

__

The estrogen pills are like a heavy weight in his hand. What he's holding is enough for one dose. After taking this, there's no going back. She's going to have to come out. 

It scares her. 

Earlier on in the week, Malfoy had told her what her impression of Harry was. She thought that she was an attention seeker who loved fame. And Malfoy wanted to be praised too, so she disliked Harry. How many other people out there also felt the same way? 

Unlike Malfoy, they would never get to know how she truly was, under all those speculations, that she never truly enjoyed it. Despised it, even. They would take that assumption, run away with it, and Harry could do absolutely nothing but let them run their mouth. 

In the morning, she had gone to Professor McGonagall’s office, telling her about her request to be transferred to the girls' dorms. The older woman had also said that the professors would be referring to her as Miss Potter from now on. Harry definitely would welcome the change, but now everyone would know. Even more, eyes would be brought upon her. Funnily enough, this time, it would be of her own volition. 

All her belongings have been packed into the trunk already. Her bed is neatly made, which is an anomaly in itself. Hopefully, the girls' dorm will be neater than the boys', she thinks. She quickly swallows the pills with a gulp of water, getting up. She ought to see where her new bed will look like. 

Hermione is standing at the foot of the boys' tower, smiling up at Harry. She smiles back, lugging her trunk down the stairs. 

"You should have placed a lightening charm on this before you moved it, Harry. Let me help with that as a housewarming gift," she scolds, taking it from her. "All ready to go?" 

The girls' tower is only a small walk away, facing adjacent. She lets Hermione go first. The first step of the staircase, is, well… staring at her, waiting for her to start moving. Suddenly Harry feels her throat run dry. Sure. She's a girl, but biologically, she's a boy. What if Hogwarts doesn't recognise that? A looming fear swallows her train of thought. 

"Is there something wrong?" asks Hermione, voice bouncing off the walls. 

Harry squeezes her eyes tight, then takes one step up. Then another. Then another two. She glides up the stairs with ease and all her hesitation slips away. Still, she waits with bated breath for the stairs to slough into a slide, to whisk her away. But they stay standing, grounded, under her feet.

She wouldn't quite know what to do if a magical structure would reject her, but with each step she takes, she feels like she's taken a spoonful of sweet, syrupy approval right in her mouth. She saunters to catch up after Hermione and smiles all the way up the staircase. 

Her new roommates take to her kindly. Thankfully, they decide to leave their bombardment of questions for the day after. To say that her best friend is delighted that Harry is joining them is an understatement. That's partially why Harry is so happy to join them. 

"It's been a long time coming," Hermione says earnestly when Lavender asks her how she feels. 

Malfoy's owl is already sitting by the window. Harry hangs up a wind chime from her bed, then walks over to read the note. 

_Potter, I can't believe that you only chose to move into the girls' dorm because of me. Is it an act of solidarity that comforts you, or what? By the way, how is it in there? In the Slytherin girls' dorms, there's the perpetual stench of Pansy's perfume. She said it costs three galleons but it smells rancid. I've been in here for only a day and I'm already regretting it. In here they often keep to themselves. I'm going to take a wild guess and say that your new dorm is way cleaner than your old one because girls tend to keep things tidier. But across the board, ALL Slytherins are neat, unlike you untidy Gryffindors. Just saying._

Harry hides a laugh behind her hand. How had she known? 

_I think the dorm is pleasant so far, they've been nothing but nice to me. I don't recall them ever being this kind. I think they're trying to help me get used to it. Parvati's the only one who's somewhat untidy and that's because she has a ton of clothes and some end up on the floor. I've got to ask her to do her own fashion show for me someday. Also, okay, Malfoy, how have you hit the nail right on the head? There are no bad smells in here at all or any laundry strewn about. By the way, what's the name of your owl?_

The owl comes back a few minutes later, holding a scented candle in its beak. A housewarming gift.

_Just a hunch._

_Also, his name is Aquarius._

Before Aquarius leaves, she smooths his ruffled feathers, leaning forward to give it’s head a kiss. "Take this to Malfoy for me," she whispers, and the owl coos.

Harry borrows a silver plate from Lavender and lights it up. When it begins to melt, it smells like cotton candy– sweet and sharp, just like a certain girl she knows. 

__ 

"Everyone in the school knows about us by now. I mean, us, like separately. Ron used to complain about me hanging out with you but now he's seemed to accept that we're similar and we'll just have to get along," Harry mumbles, going off a tangent once she sits down and properly talks to Malfoy. 

Malfoy arches a perfectly plucked eyebrow, nose buried in her potions textbook. Ever since she's chosen the name Gemini Malfoy she's gone down to a spa for regular treatments every week. The estrogen pills have been making Harry have horrible breakouts across places on her body where she didn't even know acne could fester, but Malfoy's skin has cleared up considerably. It looks incredibly soft and it's starting to drive Harry up the wall a little.

"Potter, I'm pretty sure the whole school is talking about how Sirius Black has broken into your dorm trying to finish what he's started and the first thing you start talking about is _this_. Priorities!" 

"Well he must have broken into the wrong dorm because he found Ron instead," Harry huffs indignantly. "Have you seen him? He's been twisting the tale in like, ten different directions!" 

"You've been friends with the Weasel for years, you can handle him," she says dismissively with a perfectly manicured hand. She sinks even lower into her armchair, abandoning her perfect posture, but her feet are still together. 

Harry stares bitterly at her atrociously bad cuticles and doesn't utter a word. She bites at them whenever she feels anxious, and it so happens that she is perpetually nervous. 

"Have you chosen a name for yourself yet?" asks Malfoy, much more softly than before. "You can take a while to mull over these things. It's a big deal." 

Thankful for the distraction, Harry smoothes the crumples of her skirt with her fingers. It's unusually soft, so she finds herself toying with it unconsciously. "Harriet Lily Potter. Don't laugh." 

"And I'm not laughing. It's a perfectly good name, Potter." To her disbelief, Malfoy is, out of the blue, dead serious, grey gaze strong in its intensity. Harry has to hide the flush down her neck with a hand. 

"In all honesty, I don't mind the name Harry. It doesn't make me feel dysphoric or anything, so I figured Harriet would be fine. People can go on calling me Harry but when they see my proper name they'll know I'm a girl. Also, James was my middle name, my dad's name, so it'll only make sense that it'll be Lily for my mom's instead had I been born a daughter? Wait. I'm rambling, aren't I?" Harry trails off, deflating, then flushes again. She shoots a glance at Malfoy. "Did you tell your friends you were trans before you moved?" 

"No, I didn't, Harry. I'm listening to your rambles regardless, so they aren't pointless," she drawls. Her name sounds so lovely on Malfoy's lips, that tinge of familiarity making her swell up like a hot air balloon. She wants to hear Malfoy say it again. 

"Gemini, why is that?" 

"Oh, so we're going by first names now. Alright, I can do with that," Malfoy says. She shuts the book and places it on her lap, attention fully concentrating on Harry now. "Haven't you heard that--" 

"--Malfoys don't have friends. Yeah I know, you told me this once. Even still, do I not count?" Gemini blinks at her. What? Harry knows she’s soaking up their conversations like a sponge, and what about it? 

"My friend? I suppose you are," she says, some emotion thick in its bloom that Harry doesn't recognise. "You're different." 

"Special, I hope."

"Admittedly so," Gemini replies with a small grin. It does feel odd to see her not sneering at Harry. The expression is so genuine that Harry finds herself struck by dumbfoundedness once again, it's ridiculous. 

"Recently I sat for an interview with The Prophet, Harry," she starts. "The next morning, the headline will say something along the lines of Actually, It's GEMINI NARCISSA MALFOY NOW. I have to admit, I'm quite excited." 

Harry's eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. "What?" She can't fathom giving anything to that newspaper willingly, knowing how they twist and turn things. "Why would you do that?" 

So her parents are alright with her being transgender and supporting Tom Riddle? Huh. Go figure. Blood purity must be like LGBT+ rights in the wizarding world. (That is very unlikely but it makes better sense when she says it in her head.)

"It's the most effective means of communication," she says like it's nothing. "Anyone in the wizarding world who can read will read it, trust me. Everyone always wants to know what's going on in the pureblood families. I'd want to bring the news myself rather than some other nasty schoolmate." She stares at Harry like she's looking for approval. When did start she doing that?

"Aren't you scared?" 

Her voice breaks off at the end. Harry cringes at the sound, curling her arms around her middle.

Instead of assuming what she's going to say next and preparing a rebuttal, Gemini's gaze meets hers, waiting for her to elaborate. 

"People calling you an attention whore," she mutters, running a hand through her hair and feeling it resist to succumb. "They'll say whatever they want to say about you. Plenty of nasty things behind your back, or such." 

Gemini's face softens. She squeezes herself to the side of the armchair to shorten the distance between their two chairs. The fireplace roars and Harry listens to it rumble like an undercurrent, closing her eyes to feel her own thud abhorrently in her chest. Reaching out to touch her shoulder, Gemini's hand is as cold as ice. 

"Since when was the girl who lived bothered? You'll live," she says. 

Harry turns away to the fire. "I've always cared. Why do you think I was so angry every time you made fun of me? If I didn't give a fuck I wouldn't retaliate." 

Gemini's hand retracts, slowly retreating out of her space as if she's been burnt. "How was I supposed to know?" It's as if she has more nasty things to say, but she holds her tongue. 

"How was I supposed to tell you? If you had any semblance of common sense you'd know, idiot," she mumbles. She hears Gemini sharply take a breath, then the tell-tale patter of her heeled shoes clacking out of the room follows. 

By herself, she sits in her common room. Later that day she ends up buying her own ad in The Prophet. Although hers is on the second page and Gemini is on the cover, hers garners just as much buzz.

__

The windows are all shut, but the air inside the dorm makes her shiver under the blankets. She casts a glance over to Hermione's bed, where the girl is sitting by herself, eyes bright and wide awake. In the absence of everyone else, there is a trove of red-and-green decorations scattered about the place, a task the girls had taken on themselves the night before.

"Merry Christmas, Harry!" she exclaims, laughter tinkling like bells. 

Snow falls outside in heaps, sleets of fine white trickling from the sky. Professor McGonagall had transfigured their common room carpet to a tiny Christmas tree. Their presents had been owl delivered at night. 

Ron is sitting on the couch when they come in. Harry has her hair tied with her favourite pink scrunchie. It's been getting long enough to tie these days and hovers over her collarbones. 

Among Harry's usual pile of presents, there's an extra one wrapped with an expensive-looking wrapping paper she doesn't recognise, along with two other discreet looking ones. Mrs Weasley's sweater is knitted with little white flowers surrounding its borders. Ron and her spend a good lot of time fawning over her new firebolt, but when she tears the wrapping off the odd gift out, this time Hermione is the one to squeal. 

In her hands lies a beautiful dress. The sleeves are sewn so that they scrunch up at the shoulder. Its print is dotted with white flowers in bloom, material a cool green colour. The other gift had contained a dress too, but it was an off-yellow shade that wasn't particularly flattering. Something like her Aunt Petunia’s. Even while lying in her hand, she can tell the careful needlework on this dress isn't something to scoff at. It's intricately wonderful and for a few moments, Harry is mesmerised by its beauty. 

A card falls out of the present when she unfolds it. The handwriting is familiar. "I didn't even get you a present," she whispers to herself. 

_Merry Christmas, Harriet._

__ 

A trickle of students is coming in through the front entrance of Hogwarts, returning from the holiday. Harry is dressed in the green dress, a black wool coat thrown over it all, hair plaited delicately to make a half-up half-down hairstyle courtesy of Professor McGonagall. She feels a few unabashed eyes falling upon her, but they quickly turn away. 

Among the students, she tries to spot a head of silver blond hair, seeing none. It feels like it's been hours before she sees Gemini. 

Only two weeks have passed, but her hair has grown unbelievably long, reaching the end of her back. The colour of her hair works wonders in the winter sun, making it glow like a white halo. It looks as pretty as Harry has imagined being, yet she doesn't feel a twinge of envy. Gemini catches sight of Harry, pauses, then races forward to meet her. 

"We can't be seen together outside," she says, grabbing Harry by the wrist and taking her upstairs. 

The dungeons are even colder than the rest of the castle. Her dress is thin, so she barely suppresses a shiver. Besides themselves, the Slytherin dorms are barren. Gemini places her trunk onto the bed as Harry looks around, taken in by the place. It's oddly intimate when they're in here alone. 

"Can I see you?" Self-consciously Harry folds her arms over her chest, ruffled. Gemini looks her up and down with a nod. "It suits you." 

It does. When put on, it gives the illusion of curves and makes her shoulders look less prominent. Gemini fumbles with her hands before opening her purse to pull out a pouch. 

"Let me do your makeup. You look so pretty, I can't help not to," she says, cheeks promptly tinted by a pretty pink that is stark on her pale skin. Harry feels her face warm as well. 

On the foot of the bed, Harry perches, keeping her eyes shut the entire time. She can feel every touch of Gemini's fingers going dusting her face. The blond girl's warm breath brushes across her face and Harry tries her best not to fidget. 

Gemini lets her peer into the mirror. The cosmetics are expertly applied, softening all the harsher edges of her face. A deeper red colour starts from the middle of her lips, fading out, making her lips look like they're bitten. She tilts Harry's chin to face her, taking an approving glance. 

She must have changed her body wash because now she smells like meringue. Harry becomes acutely aware of the sweat trickling down her nape and wipes it away with the back of her hand. 

"I look really pretty," says Harry, admiring her reflection. She doesn't even know she could look this nice. For once her hair texture works in her favour, the ends curling up neatly under her ears. 

"Your face looks more feminine, now. Thank Merlin for hormones." She feels her ego purr at that. 

"Yeah but my chest hurts like hell," Harry quips and they both burst into laughter. 

Gemini, flustered, brushes a strand of blond hair off her forehead. She stoops down to tuck her trunk under the bed. "I didn't ever apologise for the things I did. I shouldn't have taken you for granted. I'm sorry." 

"I didn't even give you your present." Harry reaches into her coat to take out a necklace with a pink charm hanging off its reins. It digs into her palm when she holds it tight. "I hope you'll like it... it's a portable voice modification charm, to make it more feminine. I know your voice already started breaking. I hope it helps." 

Gingerly, Gemini reaches out to take it, looping it around her neck, fingering the charm in the middle. "This really works?" Then she is quiet, astonished by the light sound that comes out of her mouth. Her gaze flickers to Harry's eyes; her lips, her scar both all at once and one at a time. 

"I could kiss you right now," she says, smiling innocently. Harry feels her insides melt in one fell swoop.

Harry didn't know that Gemini was like this, behind a cold, hardy exterior. She has a sense of humour. Her jokes are never biting and make you laugh. She likes to do her friends' makeup. She's never felt this weird happy feeling with someone else before and it sort of fucks with her head. 

It's only when she returns to her dorm she dares to rest a fist upon her chest to check her heartbeat. It's still going at an erratic pace as if it's trying to associate this feeling with Gemini forever. 

__

_Dear Padfoot,_

_How have you been doing with Buckbeak? I miss him, but I miss you more. I feel like there's a lot more I should be asking you and getting to know about. Thank you for the dress and the Firebolt you gave me during Christmas. I promise you if I had known that you gave me those I would have sent you a thank-you card._

_This may seem silly but I am very happy that you have acknowledged me as Harriet. Now the dress you have given me has another meaning, namely, acceptance. You're my godfather so we're as good as family, and my family accepts me. Please send me letters as often as you'd like, writing letters takes me no time at all and I want to hear more from you._

_Harriet_

__ 

When she returns to Vernon's house for the holiday, she's wearing that yellow dress Sirius has given her and a pair of old flats from Millicent Bulstrode (Gemini said she was trying to give them away because they had grown too small back in second year). In his bid for Harry to stay normal his face turns bright red like an ugly tomato and he hurls a few obscenities at her, but three days in Aunt Lorraine comes to pick her up and he hurls obscenities at her too. 

For a while, Harry wonders why they hadn't placed her with Aunt Lorraine since birth instead of the Dursleys. She counts the years back with her fingers. Then she realises that Lorraine would have been nineteen years old and homeless. Far too young or in the right circumstances to raise a child. Harry ends up feeling saddened. 

She writes to Dumbledore about breaking the statute of secrecy to tell her aunt about magic. Since she's technically a sort of guardian, he agrees. Aunt Lorraine suggests using magic to clean up the whole place but when Harry says she can't she just takes it upon herself to clean the whole flat. 

It's fun. Since they're much closer to the heart of the city they drop by a humongous shopping mall. There's a department store that stretches three entire floors. As a congratulatory gift for starting estrogen, Aunt Lorraine helps Harry pick out five training bras, all in pretty lacy shades. Her personal favourite is the red one-- Aunt Lorraine says that such a colour would complement her brown skin.

She visits the Weasleys. She visits the Grangers. She does her homework two weeks before school starts. Her uncle can't hurl obscenities at her because she's not in his house. Overall, it's a very good holiday. 

July 31st dawns. Under the wisp of a cold morning, she curls up in bed, going through her presents idly. 

Aunt Lorraine's face peeks out from the doorway. "Harry, are you awake? I'll bring you down to get a good hearty birthday breakfast. The diner downstairs serves the most delicious pancakes."

Sitting up, Harry quickly throws her blanket over her bruised knees, smiling. “I’ll be over in a bit, Auntie. I need to do something.”

There’s an envelope in Gemini’s familiar handwriting. While trying to open it she accidentally cuts herself on a sharp edge. There’s a pair of clip-on rose gold earrings inside which magically stick themselves to any part of her ear. She sticks it on her cartilage before she starts reading. 

_Harry,_

_We can’t meet up anymore. When school starts, don’t come looking for me in the library ever again. I owe you a thank you for helping me with discovering my identity, so take this from me now as a sort of present. We know where our loyalties lie. I’m going to assume that you know exactly what I mean. While I consider you a friend, I need to help my family as well. The least I can do to be a good daughter to them is to not associate with you. I’m sorry I couldn’t give this birthday present with happy wishes but I’m sure you’ll get over it. There’s not much to miss of me._

Confused, she brings a hand up to her eyes and pulls it back to see it wet. “Oh. I’m crying,” she mumbles to herself, crumpling the letter up in her hand. Damn. She’s going to do this now? Today? Wasn’t a Malfoy supposed to be rude and stuck-up? Why was Gemini thinking so lowly of herself?

More tears pour out and mix with her running snot. After five minutes of rubbing feebly at her sore eyes, she sighs, rolling herself back out into an inelegant sprawl across her bed again. Gemini could do whatever she wanted. Whatever. They hated each other in the past. Maybe they could do it again, she thinks. Even if it meant ignoring an entire companionship they had formed in the process. 

She manages to clean her tears away just in time to go down for breakfast without looking like a wreck. She doesn’t feel too terrible yet. The terrible feeling will come later, probably, and in full force. But she needs to celebrate her first good birthday, so she puts on her favourite dress and goes out the door. It slams shut with a bang from the unnecessary strength. 

__ 

"Harry!" Hermione's harried voice travels around the corner, growing closer. Harry keeps up her fast pace, even going as far as increasing it a little. A few students move out of her way, evidently intimidated. "I don't agree with what Ron said, but you can't go barreling off every time someone does something wrong!" 

She stops in her tracks. Her best friend catches up with her in the next few seconds. She lets Hermione get an eyeful of the frustration etched so deeply into her face, then shoots her a poisonous glare again. She knows she's being childish but she continues with her tirade. 

"Ron can go fuck himself! If he was my friend why didn't he believe me? The least he could do was to trust me. I didn't put my name in the goblet," she spits. "You guys both know how much I hate the attention. And yet!" 

"Don't follow me, 'Mione. If Ron cared so much he'd be the one following after me," she mumbles, quickly walking away so Hermione can't get a word in. 

Her feet guide her back to the library. She doesn't even think, she just ends up back here instinctively. She slinks into the same small corner, sinks to her knees and buries her face in her skirt, listening to her breathing until she can feel herself calm down. 

She's been hellishly unreasonable. Well, she could attribute it to her mood swings, a side effect of estrogen, but inwardly she already knows why. Ever since she had come out, she was subjected to multiple nasty rumours. Nothing was anything scarring to her reputation, but they hurt. A lot. Her worst fears came true. It seemed that since she chose to be transgender, just to be even more of a special snowflake. As if! This was the way she was. She had been on edge the past few weeks, and Ron happened to set her off. 

And her unwilling participation in the Triwizard Tournament would worsen it. There would be what? Two other schools joining? How many more people would conduct their own critical cross-examinations about the girl who lived?

If she could she would just stay here forever until the world forgot who she was. If only she could do that, she thinks. 

She takes another deep breath to settle herself. The musty smell of books is oddly comforting, yet it can't replace the sweet fragrance of cotton candy. 

This is the place she finds her feeling of safety tangled with. This is where Gemini would meet her, out of the view of everyone else. 

She finds out that by writing whatever she wants to say to Gemini in a book, it alleviates whatever horrible sickness that she has. If you could consider missing someone a sickness. But there is homesickness, so Harry presumes this must be the person equivalent. 

It's as if she's sitting by her dorm window again, waiting for Aquarius to come with a playful message in tow. 

This time, however, she won't receive a reply. 

__

_I wish you were here. I wish I could talk to you. When you heard the news about the goblet drawing my name, did you assume I put my name in on purpose?_

__

_I wish Tom Riddle was dead. I wish your parents weren’t Death Eaters. Why can’t we talk like everyone else? So many unnecessary burdens, honestly._

__ 

_Gemini, did you know that Cedric Diggory is absurdly handsome? (Although he is kind of snotty.) I can see why Lavender and Parvati fawn over him so much. They say I'm super lucky to be in the same competition as him. I wanted to tell them how I truly feel about participating, but I don't have the heart to._

__ 

Among the crowd, she tries her best to crane her neck out to see Harry with the participants. They’ve been waiting for a good thirty minutes already. Everyone had murmured endlessly when they had seen the dragons. What the hell were the organisers thinking? As much as Gemini hoped that Harry wouldn’t get mauled, the possibility is becoming increasingly more potent as time passes. 

Harry bests the Hungarian Horntail with a broom. A _broom_. At least she manages to get in a playing field that is comfortable to her. As she zips up and down, her plaits go flying in the air. The ribbons in her braids are a bright Gryffindor red, prominent against the white sky. She disappears for a while, returning with a golden egg cradled in her arms and numerous cuts dotting her arms and face. There’s a sort of half-reluctant cheer, especially from the Hufflepuffs. Gemini grits her teeth but doesn’t open her mouth. 

Her worry gets the best of her anyway. She mutters a half-hearted excuse to Pansy, dismisses herself, half-running down the stairs. There’s a tent set up nearby. Gemini casts a disillusionment charm and ducks inside. The other participants in the tents look somewhat battered, Madam Pomfrey skirting from one to another. Clearly, Harry isn’t a priority right now, because she’s sitting at the side on a chair. 

Gemini sidles up to Harry. The girl has so many cuts, a matter that is especially unbecoming. There’s an indignant wave of anger that rushes through her, knowing that she hadn’t signed up for this at all. Initially, Gemini wanted to check in on her, but since Madam Pomfrey wasn’t going to get around to treating Harry anytime soon, she may as well treat her superficial injuries. “ _Episkey. Episkey, episkey_ ,” she says in hushed tones, pointing her wand from one cut to another. 

Harry’s eyebrows furrow, turning around. “Gem?” she asks, hesitant. She peers out from underneath her thick, dark eyelashes framing her big green eyes prettily– like those of a doll’s. They’ve grown much longer, different from what Gemini last remembers. “Is that you?”

“Not a word,” she murmurs back. Visibly she can see the apples of Harry’s cheeks redden slightly. She squirms in her seat, leg waving back and forth, trying her best to appear discreet. It’s an exceptionally sweet look on her. “I was scared you might get seriously hurt. Thankfully you’re good on a broom, I guess.”

Harry's gaze drifts to the floor, then to Gemini. Technically it should be impossible for her to see Gemini, but she does it anyway. “I’m glad you’re here. I…” She licks her pink lips, distracted, as if there’s a whole bunch of things she wants to say, but yet no other words come out. 

Although Gemini wants to know what Harry wants to say, she doesn't pressure her to say it aloud. "If it helps, I miss you loads. Don't smile! I'll say it once, I won't say it again." 

"What? Really?" replies Harry in a relieved sort of voice. "Merlin, I miss you too." 

Gemini, affronted, clutches her chest oddly, feeling a strange warm banking feeling there stutter so jerkily she fears everyone in her vicinity might feel it as well. 

__ 

_Harry, today you looked very pretty. You shouldn't have been looking pretty, because you were there to fight a dragon. That was your priority, but I suppose if I had to fight a dragon I'd want to do it prettily too. Did Parvati do your hair? Daphne says that Padma always asks Parvati to do it for her and she can wrangle even the most unruly of hair, so that's why I'm making such an assumption._

__ 

Harry's growing bust makes a hot debut during the second challenge. 

For this task, she chooses to wear a thin long-sleeved swimsuit with board shorts. When she emerges from the water, carrying Fleur's sister and Ron in tow, she's soaked to the bone and her clothes cling onto her skin. Fleur kisses her on the cheek as a thank you, Harry blustering afterwards, then she gets a towel to dry herself. 

She looks down at her feet to notice a slight swell of her chest at the bottom of her vision. She gasps, a hand flying to rest upon one, gaping at the feel of it. A burst of happiness at the sight tingles like pins and needles. What? When did this happen? Why hadn't she noticed this before? 

"Hermione," she begins, dazed. "Is it normal that one is bigger than the other?" 

"Huh? Harry," Hermione hisses, grabbing at her shoulder. "Don't grab them so openly! Some boys are looking in this direction!" 

Some boys are looking in her direction. She doesn't have the grace to blush, so she just crosses her arms, feeling very satisfied. The afternoon the day prior comes back to her and she decides the word she learnt would be perfect to use now. "I'm gratified!" she cries. 

(If she had looked into the corner of the watching crowd, she would have seen Gemini Malfoy trying her hardest not to look, then also staring down at her bust, which has remained rather flat. She'll grouse, go back to pretending she's indifferent, even. At least Harry isn't injured this time, she'll think.)

__ 

The Yule Ball will be a spectacular affair, so it makes sense that preparations will be just as harried. Thankfully the condition for dress robes in the packing list has already been fulfilled. On her birthday Aunt Lorraine had asked for her measurements, taking off to secure her something 'wonderful' to wear. It's still a surprise. 

Harry ends up securing a date in Fred, probably a new second most favourite person in the world. He's a ball of fun when he wants to be and it's simply very likeable. Since she has a date and a dress, she thinks she's set for the ball. 

Then Professor McGonagall informs her that the champions start the opening dance. Oh boy! Fred has no idea how to dance either, so she figures that both of them can just wobble awkwardly on the dance floor for a bit. It's only fun embarrassing yourself when someone else is embarrassing themselves with you. 

That is, until Gemini. Again. 

__ 

Professor McGonagall tasks her with delivering a scroll to the Slytherin Head of House. Apparently the house elves would be indisposed because they had to prepare for the stupid ball. Harry just about had it with it at this point. And she had to go straight into the lions' den where the Slytherins were. Snape also counted as one of those slimy lions, by the way. 

A cold gust of air hits her face when she enters the dungeons. This part of the castle is indeed far colder than the rest, so she shrinks as much into herself as she can, hiding under her red scarf. 

A tilting laugh echoes down the hall. She recognises it instantly. There's a mad scramble to get herself out of sight, pressing herself behind a corner. 

Two girls, a blonde and a black-haired one stroll through. It's Gemini and Pansy Parkinson– Gemini had said they were good friends, after all. Even though they were a good distance away, Harry could hear their chatter through the reverberations bouncing from wall to wall. 

"Are you sure Goyle can't take you?" Parkinson asks impatiently. She speaks more crudely, Harry notes. It's nothing like the incredibly fake snide voice she normally uses. 

At first, Gemini starts with protests, but her tone evens out at the end. "For the last time, Pans, I'm not going to the ball with him. Or any boy, for that matter. It's alright." 

"Oh, my poor Gem," Parkinson laments. Funnily enough, she's not being hyperbolic unironically. "A ravishing blonde beauty and yet no boy wants to come to the ball with you clinging onto his arm." 

Harry imagines Gemini rolling her eyes. "Boys? They'll all just ask me weird questions. Like about my dick, or some other weird thing they can ask for shits and giggles. The rest of the boys which are, well, okay I suppose, already all have dates."

They would ask Gem that? It strikes her then that she isn't the only one suffering from schoolmates being idiots about being transgender– Gemini is, too. Had she been so blithely wrapped up in her own upset that she hadn't noticed? A pang of guilt swipes at her conscience. 

"I don't mind taking you as my date, Gem. Show the boys what they're missing. We can spice up your makeup a bit. All the other girls would be wearing blue or green eyeshadow, anyways. Then you'll come in, like a snake invading a pack of mice! Alright, that sounded better when I didn't say it aloud."

The two break off into a fit of giggles. Gemini sounds so unrestrained, Harry's heart hurts. 

"We’ll be dancing the waltz, right? I heard. I’ve learnt how to lead when I was younger, but leading is one of those random matters that make me feel rather dysphoric. Unfortunate, really..”

“What kind of ballroom dancer is the one who can’t lead and follow? I’ll figure something out with the rest of the girls, Gem. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” Parkinson says finally, then the remainder of their conversation slips out of earshot. 

Even after she had given the memo to Snape and went back to the common room, she ended up thinking again. She imagines herself on an empty ballroom floor, Gemini’s arm around her waist, the two of them drifting back and forth, faces unreadable due to a cloud of haziness. 

Cedric Diggory is giving dancing lessons down in Hufflepuff. And he does owe her a favour, doesn’t he? Perhaps this is the time to take advantage of that. 

__

“Hermione, don’t move,” Parvati instructs, eyeliner in one hand, hovering over her best friend’s face. 

Harry sits on her bed, watching Parvati do Hermione’s makeup. How does Hermione sit through that and not squirm, even a little? Having a girl that close to Harry would surely make her blush. But Hermione isn’t like that, she reminds herself. Stupid sapphic lizard brain!

She lays out her dress robes. It's a lovely shimmering thing in a muted coral hue, sleeveless, clinching at the waist with a wide skirt. The translucent overlays of the skirt make the skirt appear even wider. She's certain it'll be out of place among the rest of the dress robes with its iconic 50s look. 

The rest of the girls are dressed up wonderfully, of course; all their dates are lucky to have them, she thinks. She requires extra assistance to pull up the zipper on her dress and she finds herself feeling very thankful she's in the girls' dorm. 

Her makeup is simple except for a bold red lip colour. Parvati manages to tame her hair into something much less frizzy, using a series of charms that will only last a few hours. Again she's plaited it in low braids, this time with green ribbon. It's a look she's been sporting every challenge since the Triwizard tournament. It would be illogical for it to stop at the ball. 

Finally, when the time for the Yule Ball rolls around, they're all ready, starting to pour out of the common room. Fred's already standing by the fireplace. He smiles at the sight of Harry and offers his arm in an exaggerated gentlemanly way. "Milady," he quips, austere. Both of them giggle. 

"Hermione is Krum's date, so we need to wait outside by the door for everyone else to go in first. It's for the champions' entrance," she tells him as they saunter down the hall. 

"Are you ready to have us embarrass ourselves in front of everyone, Miss Harriet?" 

"Hell yeah, I am!" Harry exclaims, pumping a fist in the air. 

When Hermione descends from the stairs, it's like in slow motion. Krum, startled by her beauty, comes up to take her hand and kisses it. (He'd better be the perfect date or Harry will hand his ass to him the next challenge!)

The murmuring of their schoolmates gets louder as they wait for more students to enter. Unaware, she tightens her grip on Fred's arm, feeling sweat build up in her palms. "I'll be here with you, Harry. Don't you worry too much," he says comfortingly. 

The doors to the ballroom open with a creak. Students, having parted for them like the red sea, applaud as they enter pair by pair. Faux snow drizzles from the ceiling, painting the image of the Yule Ball of an unforgettable wintry white. 

As promised, her and Fred don't sway as well as the others during the opening dance, but they go through it with wide grins on their face. At first, Harry is nervous, stumbling over a heel. Fred squeezes her arm slightly to reassure her, and they try their best to pretend to know what they're doing. It's fun. 

After the dance, Harry finds herself sitting at the side with Ron. Fred has set off to conduct some prank. He tells her he's planning to spike the punch with a concoction that will turn your skin green. She doesn't mind too much, because she doesn't truly enjoy dancing anyway. Too many eyes. 

"Have you seen Malfoy? I'd reckon she doesn't make too bad of a girl," he says to her absent-mindedly, scratching at his tie. 

"What?" she blurts out. "Where?" 

Amid the swirl of dancing bodies, Gemini blooms like a rose among thorns. Plenty of girls are wearing gowns in brighter colours, but she is clothed in pure white. The halter top neckline shows off the necklace with a voice modification charm that Harry had given her. As everyone else spins, she follows, blond hair fluttering like a shawl behind her. 

"Oh," she hears herself say in a tiny voice. Is Gemini an angel who has descended to earth, or something? Merlin's saggy tits, what the hell?

Not thinking straight, she walks towards the dancing pairs, finding herself whisked into their waltz. She starts with a Durmstrang boy she doesn't know before she ends up dancing with Ernie Macmillian. 

"Long time no talk," she says in what she hopes is in a friendly manner. "How have you been, Ernie?" 

He glares at her as they turn. "Fine, even after you tried to steal Cedric's thunder." 

This again? Harry groans inwardly. "Are you seriously going to start with this now? This is not the time. If you're wondering, Cedric literally taught me how to dance. We're cool. Besides, I didn't put my name in the Goblet of Fire for crying out loud!" 

"Likely story, Harriet." The arm on her back tightens uncomfortably so. "Even if you got selected unwillingly, you should have backed off and helped Cedric in taking the lead. He's one of the few people who win Hufflepuff respect among you lot. You should have let him succeed. But you steal his thunder in newspaper articles, ace every challenge, stupid ribbon braids and all. Looks like pigs' tails, honestly. Makes me want to pull them out."

Outraged, Harry gasps, yanking her hand back from Ernie. "You leave my braids alone! That's an indirect insult to Parvati, you know. Insulting a girl on the dance floor. Real mature, Macmillian." 

"Please, Harry. You may be dressing up as a girl now but everyone still knows that--" 

A cooling touch presses into her shoulder. "I'll take it from here, thank you," Gemini says, tone blindingly cross. 

Harry is stunned. The Slytherin guides her away, gliding her into another crowd and away from Macmillian before she can catch a second to breathe. 

Immediately her training from Cedric kicks in. She can hear his recitation from the guidebook repeating smoothly in her head. Harry lifts her arms, positioning them to Gemini as an offer to lead, her grey eyes twinkling with surprise.

_"A good lead is soft but not subtle; clearly stating his intentions by moving himself, inviting his partner to follow along. He is alert, eyes scanning the floor ahead of him, watching traffic, but is constantly aware of what is happening right in his arms. He treats his follow with respect, never forcing movement from her, but following her through her every movement. If he leads a step or a pattern and she interprets the movement differently than he had intended, he adapts to her rather than forcing change. The follow should have a sense of security and safety, knowing she can fully depend on the lead."_

(Safety, she thinks. Be like the feeling of safety.)

With Gemini she feels like she's dancing on air, tuning herself to her every side-step while subtly leading the next. There's a similar glaze in her eyes that Harry recognises. 

(And now Malfoy is peering imploringly at Harry with the widest look in her eyes as if she'd discovered the meaning of life.)

Like when Gemini discovered she was a girl. Just like that. 

There's a series of small flat gems flanking Gemini's eyes in pinks and purples, highlighting the flecks in her grey eyes. Probably stuck on by lash glue. Unable to look away, both of their gazes continue to meet, only muscle memory carrying their dance. 

Harry's dancing with the loveliest girl in the whole world like it's second nature to them. Learning how to lead just so she could dance with Gemini. Everything feels slick over with a mesmerising, dreamlike haze; she wants to submerge herself in it. The world falls away with scary ease and she revels in what is left behind.

__ 

The day before the last of the Triwizard tournament, Gemini decides it isn't worth it to listen to any more listless chatter about the stupid competition. She only ever paid attention to any of the speculations because of Harry. 

She tunes out her dormmates' chatter for a good while until she hears the words 'third challenge' which snaps her out of her reverie. 

She hurriedly ties up her hair into a ponytail, planting herself closer to Milicent. "Sorry Millie, could you repeat that?" 

Millicent blinks slowly. "I said, I heard from Professor Snape that the third challenge involves a maze with creatures from the Forbidden Forest." 

Somehow, even after the sheer ridiculousness of the first and second challenge, she still finds herself shaking her head. Yet she can't stifle the cumbersome worries she brings with her to every affair, knowing just a fraction of the danger Harry will have to endure. "Do they want to kill the champions that badly?" 

"People have died before, you know," Pansy chimes in unhelpfully. "It happens." 

"Not helping, Pans." She slumps against the wall like a rag doll, confronted by the possibility that Harry could get a horrible injury and die while still distancing herself from Gemini. They still had so much to learn about each other. Great! Fantastic! Life is terrible as always. 

The least she could do is to start talking to Harry again. 

__

_I'm pretty sure this is stupid as hell but I want to wish you good luck before you enter that maze. Voldemort can go fuck himself in the ass! I'm not going to let you go just yet._

__ 

It's early morning. Blearily Harry pokes her head out of the doors, seeing many students walking by. She's changed into a light purple hoodie, so there's a pleasant sort of coldness left, but not enough for her to shiver. Nobody should be in the library at this time, she figures. 

It's become like a place for her to rest. She comes here every time prior to a challenge, often to wind down. It doesn't work because right before a challenge she gets panicky again. It clears her mind out regardless. 

Madam Pince's gaze follows her as she hurriedly slips into the corner. She places a hand on a bookshelf, another on her knees as she pants from the sprint she used to get here. 

"Harry." 

"Gemini?" Harry asks, rubbing at an eye. "I must be dreaming. It's too early for this." 

"No, you're not dreaming, Harry! I swear to Merlin, I don't remember you being this stupid," the taller girl mumbles, pinching the bridge of her nose, exasperated. She's already in her uniform, but her tie isn't on. 

Oh. She smells like oranges. How much different body wash can a girl have?

Harry frowns. "Won't you be in trouble for meeting me here? You're not supposed to be here?" 

Caught off-guard, Gemini frowns even more deeply, forming unpleasant lines on her face. "I just wanted to wish you good luck with your next challenge. That's all." 

"That's it? You come all the way here for that," Harry muses. She sees Gemini's ears start to grow pink. "Thanks, I guess." 

In what appears to be the worst form of emotional constipation, Gemini clutches her skirt tightly. "Don't end up dead or fatally injured, okay?" 

Harry snorts. "Yes, I'll be sure to do that, but there's no guarantee. You know I have a bounty on my head." 

"Stop trying to pull my leg, Harry! We still have so much to talk about. You're not going to die yet, you dolt!" Frustrated, Gemini grabs Harry's face and their lips press together for a split second. 

_Was treacle tart served for breakfast? She tastes like it. Why would they eat a dessert for breakfast? Up till now, Harriet Potter, girl wonder, surprises me again._

"W-what? What was that for?" Harry splutters, a red flush creeping up her neck. 

"I said I wanted to kiss you once, right?" Damn. Gemini can feel herself blush too. She does that too easily. If she had foundation on, it would have been hidden for sure. "If you live you'll get another kiss." Then she stomps away, leaving Harry floored. 

__ 

_"Atta boy, Harry! Your parents would be proud," Voldemort cries mockingly. "Especially your filthy mongrel mother. I'm going to kill you, Harry Potter! I'm going to--"_

_Harry stumbles to her feet, shaking. Is it with fear, or is it anger? The crucio leaves her barely grasping at moving properly; the grass seems to spin and spin and spin in circles around her._

_Behind Voldemort, a group of Death Eaters stand. Within the heads of dark cloaks, she swears she can spot someone with blond locks spilling out of their disguise, the same shade as Gemini's. Lucius Malfoy. She lets out a weak chuckle, holding onto a tomb for support. What would Lucius do if he knew that his enemy, Harry Potter, was in love with his daughter?_

_What would he do? What would you do, Lucius?_

_"I'm going to say this for the last fucking time, you wrinkly eggheaded twat!" she bellows, an icy rage flooding her senses. She knows what to do now. "I'M A GIRL! EXPELLIARMUS!"_

__ 

Dark spots dance across her vision. She groans, burying herself further into the soft surface beneath her. Everything hurts so badly. It's like all of her senses had been cranked up to the highest sensitivity. The sterile smell that lingers in the air makes her head throb. Ugh. 

There's a heavy weight on her numb thigh. She grabs at it only to take a fistful of soft, silky hair. It's tangled like it hasn't been combed in days. 

Her eyes flutter open. "Gemini?" 

Gemini is sleeping next to her bed, leaning over from a chair pushed right up to it, her face a quiet bliss. Her lips are slightly parted, breathing shallow; her pale skin doesn't have a trace of makeup like she normally wears. Even though Harry has just woken up, she can still admire Gemini like this. She runs her fingers through the taller girl's hair. Gemini sighs in her sleep and wiggles closer. 

She recalls meeting Voldemort, yet her memories of that night are faded, feeling more like a horrible nightmare. She draws the curtains around her bed quickly. In the bed next to hers, Cedric is sitting up, eating some porridge. 

"Cedric! I thought you died," she says, feeling tears drip down her cheeks. "I'm glad you're here." 

"You're awake! Oh no please don't cry… do you want me to get Madam Pomfrey for you? You must be starving," he replies kindly. Harry feels the onset of even more tears come. Cedric is so nice, what the hell. She's going to start bawling. 

"Have I been out for long?" she asks him, drawing the woolly blanket to her chest. 

"Three days or so," he tells her. He glances over pointedly at Gemini, clearly curious. "She's been coming in and out since you got here. Sometimes she just lies there and cries until she falls asleep." 

Absently she grabs at a plait, still in perfect shape even after dealing with both the dark lord and three days of unconsciousness. She ought to thank Parvati for that. The end of a ribbon looks like it's been fried. 

Hm. Right now she's just glad she's alive. It seems like Gemini had been sleeping for a long time, so Harry gently rubs her shoulder to stir her. "Gem. Gemini. Wake up." 

"Wha? What is it," Gemini murmurs sleepily. Her eyes widen to a comically large size. "You're awake!" 

Immediately a pair of lithe arms are thrown over her, pulling her into a tight, crushing hug. Harry returns the hug with just as much intensity, burying her face into Gemini's shoulder and taking a deep hiss of breath. Gemini seems to deflate underneath her, but her hold is still unyielding. 

"'M sorry, Harry. 'M really sorry," she sobs quietly, words muffled. "I didn't know they were going to be there, I swear. I didn't know. I wouldn't have forgiven myself if you had died." 

"I'm not dead, Gem. It's okay, you didn't know. There was nothing you could have done." Harry runs a soothing hand up and down Gemini's back. 

They break apart from the hug, still close as ever. Harry kisses her softly, a taste of salty tears stinging each other. "You said I could get another kiss when I made it out of that maze," she says warmly. 

"You can fuck right off," Gemini replies, but she's smiling through her tears. "A kiss, right after you escaped death? Again? Seriously?" 

Then she remembers. "Gem, you're not supposed to be here. What if your parents find out?" 

The other girl snorts, leaning over to brush her hand over Harry's forehead. "Sorry, Potter. I don't think I can bear to let you go again." She feels her heart do a weird somersault. 

She'd thought crushing badly on someone would mean that she would know exactly why. But this thing she has for Gemini… she can't explain it. It just _is._ It will stay there, and it burns so brightly she fears it'll scald her. It may develop into something more, even.

There are so many things out there to get her. Even in the infirmary, she knows she's not entirely safe. 

Yet right now she's simply glad she's alive, so she twists herself to fit her head in the crook of Gemini's neck, staying there and continuing to feel safe, and to continue to _become._

**Author's Note:**

> ROLL END CREDITS!!
> 
> 24/7 (I'll be there)  
> 매일 같은 day (I'll be there)  
> 같아지는 맘에 우리 I'll be there  
> Three-six-five (I'll be there)  
> 시간 속에 (I'll be there)  
> 함께하는 우리 I'll be there
> 
> [ twitter](https://twitter.com/okaeythen?s=09)  
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